


conditions of absolute reality

by middlecyclone



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, plot directly stolen from the haunting of hill house, pre ryan/shane and jen/kelsey if you really really squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16480133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlecyclone/pseuds/middlecyclone
Summary: “So, Mr. Madej, you’ve really never seen any apparitions, or felt any supernatural interference in this house?” Dr. Bergara asked.“Never,” said Shane. “Not once.”





	conditions of absolute reality

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really really really loose interpretation of the book The Haunting of Hill House that simultaneously disrespects Shirley Jackson by mere comparison and completely and shamelessly rips off every plot point. Oh well!

_No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met nearly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone._  

—Shirley Jackson, _The Haunting of Hill House_

 

“It’s not haunted,” Shane said. “It’s _not_. Ghosts aren’t real.”

“So you say,” Dr. Bergara said. “And yet you’ve called me here.”

“To help me disprove their existence for once and for all, not to give you evidence for your crackpot theories and misplaced delusions!”

“And yet,” Dr. Bergara repeated, “you’ve called me.”

There was a silence in the sitting room, then, a densely weighted science.

“So, Mr. Madej, you’ve really never seen any apparitions, or felt any supernatural interference in this house?” Dr. Bergara asked eventually.

“Never,” said Shane. “Not once.”

“You know, there’s plenty of testimonies from others,” he said. “From the caretakers, other guests, as well as your own sister—”

“Don’t talk about my sister,” Shane snapped. “I know what other people think they saw and think they felt, and I’m telling you that I’ve never had an experience in this household that couldn’t be explained by science.”

“I am a scientist, too, you know,” Dr. Bergara said, mouth thinning into a tense line.

“That’s debatable.”

“‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of—’”

“‘In your philosophies,’ yes,” he cut him off, finishing the quote. “Don’t call me Horatio.”

The bell rang.

Their guests were here.

➿➿➿

Jen was a small young woman, holding herself together tightly, with short dark hair and a nervous expression. Kelsey was taller, blonder, looser, and trailed behind as the pair wandered in, staring in wonder at Hill House’s dark panelling and warrenlike hallways.

Dr. Bergara had invited them here to participate in the investigation; in fact, he’d invited nearly a dozen people he’d tracked down with some supernatural occurrence in their past, but Jen and Kelsey were the only two who’d answered his invitation in the affirmative.

And now they were here, and the experiment could begin.

➿➿➿

Dr. Bergara led them down a hall to a small, dim room; maybe in a different house it would have been cozy, but in this house it was simply cramped and warm.

Shane was already inside, pouring martinis. “Ah,” he said drily, “you’re back. With our esteemed guests in tow, I see. Welcome.”

“Hello,” Jen said warily.

“Is that for me?” Kelsey said, less wary, and held out a hand for a martini.

“But of course,” said Shane. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he added, with a grin, and did.

➿➿➿

“But why are we here?” Jen asked, nearly an hour later, after they’d all gotten to know each other a bit and adjoined from the sitting room to dinner.

“I—not tonight,” Dr. Bergara said. “It’s not a topic best told after the sun goes down.”

“No,” Kelsey said, argumentative, “we came all this way to do you a kindness, and we deserve to know what this is, what we can expect.”

“If I tell you,” Dr. Bergara said frankly, “you’ll want to leave, and it’s not safe to leave at night. The last person to attempt it died.”

“We won’t want to leave,” Jen said.

“You don’t know that,” said Dr. Bergara. “But if you insist, I’ll tell you after dinner, with some coffee and brandy. For now, let’s talk about music, or politics, or sport—”

“No!” said Shane, gasping in mock horror. “Anything but sport!”

➿➿➿

Back in the small parlor, the group of four tucked themselves into a loose circle, discarding the uncomfortable chairs to lounge familiarly on the carpeted floor, drawing close in the oppressive atmosphere of Hill House, eagerly awaiting the knowledge that they were sure awaited them.

“My aim, here,” Dr. Bergara explained, “is to discover what makes a haunted house haunted. I want to do my utmost best not just to measure the psychological effect of hauntings on the people inside them, but also to capture visual proof of a spirit.”

“The psychological effect?”

“Hill House,” Dr. Bergara said, “has been an unlivable place for going on twenty years, now. And I believe we can now find out why.”

He took a deep breath, and told them then the story of Hill House, a story of death and bitter arguments and vengeful familial hatred. Jen tried her best to pay attention, but as she sipped her brandy and stared into the fire the never-cozy room turned cramped and overwarm, and Dr. Bergara’s words blurred together, and—

➿➿➿

“Are you married?” Jen asked Kelsey, and then flushed, not knowing why.

Kelsey laughed. “No,” she said. “You’re funny,” and she reached a hand out and touched Jen softly on the cheek.

“Are you married?” Shane asked Dr. Bergara, curious.

“No,” he said shortly, and they were silent.

➿➿➿

In the morning it was raining, and the girls got lost on their way from their bedrooms to the dining room. Hill House was a confusing, impenetrable maze; every hall looked like every other hall; every door looked like every other door.

“Damn!” Kelsey said, stumbling into the same dust-covered chair in the same darkened room for the third time. “You could go mad, living in this house day after day!”

“We need a map,” said Jen, and tugged wildly at a doorknob, guessing which way to go. “I _think_ it’s through here—”

Shane met them there, laughing. “Would you believe that I left all these doors open for you?” he asked. “They’re weighted in some strange way, there isn’t a door in this house that’ll stay open for more than a minute.”

“I believe it,” Jen said grimly, and followed him through.

➿➿➿

That day, they explored the house, marveling at its peculiarities.

“The floors are all uneven,” Dr. Bergara explained, “just slightly, not enough to notice, but enough to add up. And every angle is off by just a few degrees, but nowhere is ever where you think it’ll be, looking at the outside. That’s why it’s so easy to get lost.”

“And that’s why there are so many people complaining of psychological distress here,” Shane added. “It’s not a haunting, it’s a sort of seasickness, a disturbance of the inner ear. Perfectly explainable.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” said Dr. Bergara.

“You don’t _not_ know that,” Shane refuted, and folded his arms.

Somewhere above their heads, a floorboard creaked.

➿➿➿

That night, someone knocked on all their bedroom doors.

➿➿➿

Time passed lazily at Hill House, and things continued to happen. 

➿➿➿

“I was holding her hand,” Jen said shrilly, “We were in bed, and I was holding Kelsey’s hand, and then it wasn’t her hand anymore, it was someone else, it was some _thing_ else, it—”

“Is this true?” Ryan asked Kelsey directly. “Were you with her?”

“No,” Kelsey said. “I mean, yes I was with her, but it was me the whole time, I swear.”

“No!” Jen shrieked, “It was real, I know what I felt, it was _real—”_

➿➿➿

“They need to leave,” Shane said, coolly. “At the very least, Jen needs to leave.”

“My experiment—”

“You know you aren’t getting any real data off her,” Shane said scornfully. “Even with all your notions of spirits and hauntings, you know that she’s simply—”

“You can’t simply dismiss what she’s _seen_ —”

“Yes, I can,” Shane said. “She’s not well, and surely you can see it too.”

A moment.

“At the very least,” Shane continued, “you have to admit that whatever your experiment is worth, it’s not worth the mind of this poor girl; even if this was data you could use, you have to admit that it’s not worth _her_.”

“Do I?” he asked. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Shane said firmly, and that was that.

➿➿➿

“I can’t _leave_ ,” Jen said with a laugh.

“You’ve been here long enough,” said Shane.

“But you can’t just make me _go_ ,” Jen said, tearfully, “Dr. Bergara, you _brought_ me here!”

“Once you leave,” Dr. Bergara said, “you’ll be quite yourself again, and you’ll wonder why you ever wanted to—”

“No,” Jen said, “you’re wrong,” but she picked up her suitcase and walked out the front door, and nobody could bear to watch her go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!


End file.
